Mother's Garden: Feed the birds

Ruth S. Foster

Tuesday

Jan 29, 2008 at 12:01 AMJan 29, 2008 at 1:48 PM

A recent New York Times piece about the evolutionary origins of human morality, generosity and kindness was interesting. Birds haven't yet evolved to that extent. The question this year: Have human politicians?

A recent New York Times piece about the evolutionary origins of human morality, generosity and kindness was interesting. Birds haven't yet evolved to that extent. The question this year: Have human politicians?

Ecosystems are extremely complex, as are the relationships among animals, plants and microscopic organisms. It also covers birds and the humans who feed them.

Birds need lots of calories in winter when it's cold and when their other food sources (seeds, bugs, fruits) are scarce. They establish a feeding pattern that includes a range of places, possibly in some kind of sequential order, and they fly from spot to spot to get enough to eat.

We have trained our birds to come to the window while we eat breakfast. Trained the birds? Indeed, you say.

Actually, what we're doing is to attribute human characteristics to "our" birds. It's called anthropomorphism, a common failing among conservationists. You can't really train wild birds, but you can establish a memory on their feeding patterns.

The easiest ones are the chickadees, the smallest ones. We had two or three families. When they see us walk by the window in the morning, they come and sit in a bush and wait for the handful of sunflower hearts to be put on the covered feeder. When I work in the garden in the summer they will fly around my head — signaling for their handful of food.

Why sunflower hearts? Because all species of birds will eat them. And the black seed coat of regular sunflower seeds contains a herbicide that inhibits germination so when dropped, it interferes with the garden, particularly under the feeder.

Why only a handful of seeds? Because our regular birds come first and eat and hopefully finish everything before the rotten squirrels come and frighten the birds away. We shoo the squirrels with barks, growls, meows and squirrel distress calls, but it's a never-ending battle. Our chickadees sit in the bush and wait, right next to us. Our little friends.

This is our fantasy, of course, more anthropomorphism. They are not our friends. We are just their breakfast table.

Pecking order is what rules. First comes size, then aggressiveness. The smallest, the chickadees, fly in, grab a seed quickly and fly out. When the slightly larger titmice come, the chickadees sit and wait.

The resident cardinals sit inside the feeder and gorge themselves while everyone else waits. We have two cardinal families. The big fat pair comes in the morning; the other ones in the late afternoon. This because the morning male chases the smaller afternoon male away. Guarding his territory, you know.

I think the afternoon female is the daughter of the morning male. Last summer, he tenderly trained her not to be afraid of eating at the feeder. This year he shoos her and her skinny husband away. I called Audubon to discuss cardinal lifespans (average 3 years, can be more) and the ornithologist angrily told me the word "husband" was highly inappropriate. Anthropomorphizing again. Bird paternal love extends only until one takes a mate.

This winter, we have new birds that are dispossessing our resident population. First, six juncos came from northern Canada to winter here. They prefer eating on the ground, but eventually, one got brave enough to venture into the covered feeder. The others followed. Now the chickadees and juncos are afraid of them.

We have a new tiny female redpoll that pecks at any bird who comes near the feeder while she's stuffing herself. And nuthatches and unusual sparrows, even a wren. One is supposed to be proud when unusual birds come but I prefer my little friends who stay all year and recognize us in the window.

Ecosystems have no morality. It is just survival of the fittest ... or biggest ... or most aggressive. Endowing ecosystems and their birds or animals with Victorian romanticism is more a reflection of one's personal needs than the reality of nature.

Incidentally, birds carry many viruses, although resident birds carry far fewer than migrating species. If you clean a bird feeder, cover your hands with disposable gloves or plastic bags, and wash well when finished. Perhaps in the future, as avian flu spreads to this continent in migrating birds, we will no longer choose to attract our feathered friends to our gardens.

Ruth S. Foster is a landscape consultant and arborist, and contributor to the Belmont Citizen-Herald. More gardening information can be found on her Web site: www.mothersgarden.net.

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